Crystal Storm (Falling Kingdoms #5)(78)

Cleo’s eyes went wide. “That’s where you were? Whose foolish plan was this?”

“Prince Magnus threatened Nic,” Olivia explained. “He threatened your life as well if Nic didn’t pursue Ashur and retrieve the Kindred orbs.”

Cleo frowned. “That can’t be right. Magnus wouldn’t do something like that.”

“I assure you, he did. Nic never would have left your side otherwise.” Olivia’s emerald-green eyes flashed with anger. “It’s the prince’s fault this happened. I lost Nic in the crowd during the assassination attempt on Amara. I saw him for only a moment as he fell under the blade. I . . . I believe it was over quickly.”

Cleo shook her head as her palms began to prickle with sweat. “What? I don’t understand. He fell under a blade? What blade? What do you mean?”

Olivia’s expression held only sorrow. “Nic is dead. He is one of many who were killed during the aftermath of a rebel assassination attempt. I must leave Mytica now, and I strongly urge you to do the same. You’re not safe here with someone like Magnus, who would send a boy like Nic off to his death. It’s not right, princess, none of this is. The world is spiraling out of control, and I fear that it may already be too late to save it. I’m so sorry I had to tell you this, but I thought you deserved to know.”

Olivia let go of Cleo’s hand and took a few steps backward, her expression pained.

“Be well, princess,” she said. With that, her dark, flawless skin transformed into golden feathers, her form shifting into that of a hawk, and she took flight.

Cleo watched her, far too stunned by what she’d been told to appreciate the sight of true and undeniable magic unfolding before her very eyes.

She wasn’t sure how long it was that she stood in silence in the courtyard, staring up at the bright sky, before she turned and stumbled back into the inn. Her knees gave out under her before she reached a chair.

Every inch of her trembled, but she didn’t cry. It was too much to process. Too unbelievable. It couldn’t be true. If it was, if Nic was dead, then she wanted to die too.

“Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

Before she realized what was happening, Cleo found herself swept up off the floor and into a pair of strong arms.

“Are you hurt?” Magnus stroked the hair off her forehead, cupping her face in his hands. “Damn it, Cleo. Answer me!”

Foggily, she registered the concern in his deep brown eyes and the deep crease between his brows from his frown.

“Magnus . . .” she began, drawing in deep, shuddery breaths.

“Yes, my love. Talk to me. Please.”

“Tell me the truth . . .”

“Of course. What? What do you need to know?”

“Did you threaten to kill me if Nic didn’t go after Ashur?”

His pained expression, utterly fixed on her, slowly gave way to the coolness of the mask he once wore to cover his emotions with her. “Did he tell you that? Has he returned?”

“Answer me. Did you or did you not threaten me to him?”

He held her furious gaze steadily. “Cassian required the right motivation.”

“That’s a yes.”

“I told him only what he needed to hear to fix this. To—”

Cleo slapped him so hard that her hand stung from it. He pressed his hand to his left cheek and stared at her, stunned.

His eyes narrowed. “You dare—”

“He’s dead!” she screamed before he could say another word. “Because of what you said! My last friend in the entire world is dead because of you!”

Confusion now crossed his face. “That can’t be.”

“Can’t it? Don’t people die when they come anywhere near you and your monstrous family?” She raked her hands through her hair, wanting to yank it all out by its roots, wanting to feel physical pain so she could concentrate on something other than her shattered heart.

“Who told you this?” Magnus demanded.

“Olivia came back. She’s gone now, so you can’t try to bully her into doing what you say too.”

“Olivia. Yes, well, I don’t know Olivia from a lump on the ground. Neither do you. All we know about her is that she’s an ally of Jonas—someone who hated me enough to want me dead until very recently. For all I know, that goal never changed.”

“Why would she lie about something like this?” her voice broke.

“Because people lie to get what they want.”

“I suppose you should know.”

“Yes. The feeling is entirely mutual, princess,” he said. “Between the two of us, I believe you’ve racked up far more lies than I have. Also, may I remind you that you saw Ashur die with your own eyes, yet he still lives. You have no proof that Nic is dead—only someone else’s words. Words are not to be trusted, not from anyone.”

“That’s your answer?” Cleo stared at him, realizing she barely knew this person before her. “I tell you a boy who was like my brother has been killed because of you, and you simply tell me I’ve been lied to?”

“Seems that way, doesn’t it?”

“You take no responsibility for all the damage you’ve done. None at all!” She tried with all her might to stay composed, to not lose herself in the grief and rage battling within her. “I’ve tried to see the good in you, but then you do something unforgiveable like this. Go on,” she snarled. “Try to defend yourself. Say that Nic hated you, so why wouldn’t you wish him dead? Go on, do it!”